There is something to the austerity of winter that makes the bounty of spring feel indulgent. With its relentless cold dark days, heavy wet snow and endless parade of root vegetables, those first few bright green things of spring seem positively fanciful. Vivid colors abound, curls, tendrils, feathery tips, sweet delicate flavors spring, unsurprisingly, is very bewitching indeed.
We put the screens in the windows and doors at the farm the other day. A simple gesture, albeit not a simple task, signaling a time of year when days are spent with the windows flung open and the cool (often still downright chilly) clean air rushes through the house; working its way into all the corners and blowing out the last cobwebs of winter. continue reading
On a particularly early morning, I found myself sitting in one of London’s east end restaurants working through details of a fast approaching and fairly high pressure event. I must have been the only person in the restaurant at that time and I distinctly remember waiting outside in the drizzle for someone to unlocked the door and let me inside. This particular space is one with the most inspired light even on this misty wooly grey morning and I took a few minutes to admire it as it fell softly over the backs of minimalist birch chairs and polished concrete floors. Being so early, the space was just a hair shy of warm, the ovens having only just begun their day’s labor and coldness from the night before still hanging around ankle level. A familiar conversation ensued soon after and I ordered a cup of black coffee – it felt perfectly austere given my surroundings and I imagined it would also be hottest thing on their early morning menu. continue reading